


somehow we end up on the same side

by TheSushiMonster



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Las Vegas Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 16:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11650065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSushiMonster/pseuds/TheSushiMonster
Summary: Benvolio barely lets out a sigh before his words blend together in her ear. “I know this is a bad time - ” a slight, thoughtless pause, and then - “but marry me?”Rosaline blinks before a disbelieving laugh escapes her. “Um, Montague, I already said yes, remember? Middle of the night - you were half asleep - we should get married - ”Engaged Rosaline and Benvolio have had enough.





	somehow we end up on the same side

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peachypop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachypop/gifts), [dharmainitiative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dharmainitiative/gifts), [dizkipling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizkipling/gifts).



> Prompts: “Hey :) I dont want to bother you or anything, but when you have free time& inspiration could you write like a short drabble for rosvolio with this quote as some sort of theme?http://artismyhammer.tumblr.com/post/163080703590/frucienforever-insp I just loved it so much!! and your writing is amazing :)”
> 
> \+ “Sis, I’m totally prompting you to write a Rosvolio fic that incorporates the new Taco Bell Las Vegas wedding package pleasssee”
> 
> \+ “Rosaline & Benvolio secretly get married” & “this is probably a bad time, but marry me?” & “It’s you, it’s always been you."
> 
> \--
> 
> Tonight is the finale. I wrote this very quickly, so I apologize for how rough it is. Frankly, I think this may be my last SSC fic, other than finishing TLI, which is why I wanted to get it done today.
> 
> I’ve gained a lot of friends and followers from the SSC fandom, and even if the show disappointed me, I’ll always have the book - and all of you. So thank you for your support and love and interest, and I’ll never forget it.
> 
> And then, finally, this is really for my birthday squad - Lizza, Grace, and Allie - I love you all and even if Lizza doesn’t actually watch this show, I’m killing many birds with this one stone, so here you are. I hope you like it!

Rosaline finally has enough on a Tuesday.

Isabella’s living room is covered in magazines and flowers, boxes of cake samples stacked semi-neatly on Juliet’s lap. Livia, curled up at Isabella’s side, flips through a bridal magazine, frowning deeply, her girlfriend making remarks about the dresses on each page.

Rosaline paces.

And when Juliet, chocolate on her fingers, groans at her phone and shoves it towards her cousin, Rosaline almost throws it across the room.

_Don’t forget to invite your Uncle’s cousins from Spain - they couldn’t make it to Juliet’s, so they have to attend your wedding._

Not for the first time, Juliet grimaces and apologizes. “If I had known eloping would mean my mom trying to shove off all the relatives onto _you…”_

Rosaline shakes her head. “It’s fine.”

It’s not.

She resumes her pacing, Livia’s eyes on her, even as Isabella and Juliet start to discuss how best to balance all the Capulet invitees with the Montague ones. When Isabella mentions Livia’s ex Paris, and how he _hates_ Escalus, and how Tybalt and Mercutio cannot be in the same room together - and how Juliet’s mom may want tulips instead of roses -

Rosaline’s phone rings. She barely glances at the caller id before she sinks into the armchair across from her friends, exhaling.

“Hey,” she says.

Benvolio barely lets out a sigh before his words blend together in her ear. “I know this is a bad time - ” a slight, thoughtless pause, and then - “but marry me?”

Rosaline blinks before a disbelieving laugh escapes her. “Um, Montague, I already said yes, remember? Middle of the night - you were half asleep - _we should get married_ \- ”

Groaning, Benvolio probably shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. Rosaline feels her lips tug upward in a fond smile at the image. “Yeah - well - I’m not sure - I - ” This sigh is deeper, more tired, and Rosaline wants to see him. “Where are you?”

“At Isabella’s.”

“We’ll be over in ten.”

And he hangs up. Rosaline grips her phone tightly in her hands, frowning.

“Benvolio?” asks Livia. Rosaline nods. “What’s up?”

“They’re coming over. He - ” Rosaline stops herself. There’s an itch in her chest, something that threatens to cover her completely, so she shakes her head. “This is a lot.”

“Wedding planning?” Juliet sniffs the bouquet in front of her. “It is overwhelming, but it’ll all be worth it, right?”

Rosaline curls into her chair and doesn’t say anything. Her mouth tastes bitter.

When there’s a knock at the door, Escalus gets it, finally appearing after escaping into his room hours before, just prior to the wedding planning explosion in the living room. Romeo and Mercutio grimace at the mess, the former heading straight for the love-seat beside Juliet, the latter lifting a piece of chiffon with complete disgust. Mercutio tosses the offending piece of fabric in Isabella’s face before sitting between the couple - despite plenty of room beside them - and turning on the television.

Benvolio, however, heads straight for her. She absently notices Stella closing the front door behind them, smiling at Escalus, before her fiance pulls her up and to the kitchen.

The moment it appears they are semi-alone, Benvolio holds her face. “God, I love you.”

Rosaline laughs when he kisses her, holding onto his shirt with her fingers. “Love you too.” When he leans against her forehead, she runs her hands up and down his chest. “What’s up?”

His hands slips down to hers, his thumbs running along her palms, clasped together between them. “This is - not what I expected.”

“What?”

“This. The wedding. Planning.” He squeezes her hands. “My Uncle - since he didn’t get to have the big wedding with Romeo - ”

“He’s pushing it all onto you. Onto us.” Rosaline smiles, kissing him lightly. “My Aunt is just as bad.”

Benvolio sighs and leans forward, kissing her hair.

“I just try to remember - this is about you and me. Us. Our wedding. Our marriage.” His fingers runs through her hair and Rosaline smiles; his touch still breathes new life into her, and all the stress building in her shoulders feel easier, especially when his other hand sneaks beneath her shirt. “I just can’t wait to marry you.”

Rosaline tucks her head under his neck and kisses his collarbone. “Me neither.” Her arms wrap around him.

“No I mean - ” he pushes back slightly, just enough to hold her arms and look her straight in the eyes, “I can’t wait any longer.”

Her heart picks up as his hazel eyes glow green. She knows he’s not kidding, understands him completely - and she’s only slightly surprised to find her shoulders relax even further. “You want to elope?”

“I know it’s crazy - and that our families are going to be furious, but all of this pressure and planning, it’s not about _us,_ it’s about them, people who don’t even _love us_ \- ”

The television, previously playing a soccer game, switches to commercial.

The familiar bell.

Romeo sits up straight, his voice loud enough to interrupt Benvolio, still holding her, still pleading, eyes still desperate and shining.

“Apparently they’re doing weddings at the Taco Bell in Las Vegas now - _almost_ wish that had been an option for me and Jules - ”

Rosaline almost laughs.

Instead, she catches Benvolio’s eye.

He laughs for her.

“Rosaline Capulet,” he says loudly, eyes glittering as Escalus pauses on his way into the kitchen, Stella on his heels, all their friends turning in their direction. “Do you want to go to Las Vegas to get married at Taco Bell?”

Rosaline grabs his hands. “Absolutely, Benvolio Montague.”

Mercutio yelps as Livia squeals, and Escalus ends up having to physically pull the couple apart to get his glass of water.

  
  


They mutually agree, without much debate, not to tell anyone else. On Wednesday, they buy nine plane tickets for departure Friday.

(”We don’t all have to go - ” Livia starts, still in the Princes’ apartment, the magazines and wedding materials pushed solidly into a corner.

Rosaline shakes her head. “There is no way I am getting married without my sister there.” Her hand rests in Benvolio’s, both of them sitting on the floor. “We want _all_ of you there, okay?” Her gaze lingers at the back of the room, where Escalus and Stella stand exceptionally close together.

Mercutio claps Benvolio on the back. Romeo, however, grimaces. “We’d need two cars for a road trip - I don’t mind if we use ours but I don’t think - ”

“We’re flying,” says Benvolio, waving away his cousin’s concerns. Benvolio glances sideways at Rosaline, realizing quickly that they hadn’t discussed _any_ of this yet - but she’s nodding. “We have all that money saved, just for this - ”

“So instead of throwing a fancy wedding, we can buy plane tickets. And save for a house.” Rosaline squeezes his hand. “The sooner, the better.”

Escalus uses his frequent flyer discounts and pays for both of their tickets as a wedding gift.)

After bribing various other passengers, they are able to find seats semi-close together.

The five hour flight is early enough that they spend at least the first two hours sleeping. Benvolio almost punches the guy sitting in front of Isabella and Livia, but when he whispers something to his companion about _girls just being pals_ , he relaxes and shakes his head.

“Idiots,” says Rosaline, patting his hand. She snuggles closer to him, sleep still in her voice, and Benvolio buries his grin in her hair. “Not worth it.”

“You’re worth it.”

“Damn right.”

Rosaline falls back asleep against his side, and Benvolio twirls her hair around his fingers. Around the third hour, Mercutio begins collecting mini-bottles of vodka, and by the fourth, he’s drunk at least ten. Isabella, now awake, amuses herself by making drunk Mercutio sing increasingly embarrassing songs and recording them on her phone.

By the end of the fourth hour, Escalus and Stella - having woken up even before Benvolio - sit with hands intertwined (Mercutio only makes one comment - _finally_ \- but the rest leave them alone) and heads too close together to only be talking the entire time.

Rosaline, somehow, only wakes up when the captain announces that they are landing soon. “I’m impressed,” he whispers as she yawns, stretching and flattening her hair. “I couldn’t sleep much after we took off.”

Her hand rests on his neck, her thumb absently massaging his tense muscles. Biting back a smile, he watches her adjust her seat and take a quick survey of their friends - Romeo and Juliet joking with Livia, Isabella helping a drunk Mercutio drink water, Escalus and Stella trying not to look like they obviously want to join the mile high club as soon as possible.

Rosaline leans against his chest. “I’m really happy, Ben.”

Benvolio inhales. Her hair's a mess and she’s smiling with her eyes closed and her touch is cool and his shoulder feels stiff from where she’s been sleeping on it. But she looks up at him and he exhales. “I’ve never been happier, Ros.”

She kisses the corner of his lip and they hold hands as they land.

  
  


Benvolio and Rosaline marry on a Friday evening.

As soon as their flight lands, the nine of them stand quietly. Most of them look to Mercutio. Mercutio looks at Benvolio. Benvolio looks to Rosaline - and Rosaline looks right back.

Grinning, Benvolio squeezes her hand. “Let’s get married.”

So they do.

The line is a little long, but it’s just between lunch and dinner, so not long enough. Because when Romeo slaps down cash at the counter, declaring that they wanted one wedding _stat_ , Rosaline feels her hand - still gripping Benvolio’s - tighten, sweat pooling in the palms. But Benvolio doesn’t let her let go; instead, he intertwines their fingers, his thumb drawing calming circles, occasionally kissing her temple.

And when Livia and Romeo separate them, to get ready - Rosaline makes them wait.

“You sure this is what you want?” she asks him, their friends giving them space. Rosaline crosses her arms over her chest. Stomach bubbling, purple walls seemingly taller and harsher, Rosaline avoids his eyes.

Benvolio moves her arms so they rest on his shoulders. Grabbing her waist, he pulls her close - so close, she perhaps feels his heart beat - fast and loud, out of rhythm and in disarray - but completely in sync with hers. Rosaline exhales even before his hand lays on his cheek. “Are you talking about the wedding?” He watches his hand, his fingers, her face, until finally his eyes meet hers. She’s always been struck by his eyes - how colors swirl together like the shades of his personality, always solid and comforting and _there_ , no matter which one may dominate in the moment.

In _that_ moment, his eyes are brown and shining.

Rosaline leans into his touch.

Benvolio smiles. “I’m not sure.” Rosaline stops breathing for that full second, but Benvolio still smiles and shakes his head. “I’m not sure about a lot of things - like whether Mercutio is sober enough for this, or whether Escalus is good enough for Stella, or whether I’m going to regret marrying you in a Taco Bell.” His soft voice is low, but it vibrates in her chest too. His eyes are now blue. “But no matter what, I am a hundred percent sure I want to marry you.”

Rosaline kisses him. She tells him _I’m hundred percent sure I want to marry you too_ with her lips over his, with the pressure of her mouth and her fingers clinging to his hair and her foot sliding closer to his. And when she separates and breathes a little harder, she grins and says it too, with air and vibrations and sounds. “I love you too.”

And they part.

  
  


When Rosaline walks down the aisle during the wedding, Benvolio can’t help but remember the last wedding they attended - as witnesses, for their cousins’ elopment, on opposite sides but in complete agreement. And when Rosaline reaches him, standing in a white sundress with her black curls spilled across her shoulders and her eyes never leaving him, Benvolio remembers how she raised her eyebrow at him, dismissed him, impressed him - how even then, he knew she was someone who would crawl under his skin.

And when she joins her hands with his, the officiant speaking to the small crowd - their friends, the strangers gathered around - he’s glad he was right.

Because when Rosaline squeezes his hands as no one steps forever to stop their union, he knows that Rosaline not only crawled under his skin, but under his bones and his muscles, and into his very soul; she etched a place within him and he doesn’t intend to let her go.

And he says his vows:

“Right before we met - when I was trying to convince Romeo that marrying Juliet was a horrible mistake - he told me something. He told me ‘falling in love is easy. Having sex is easier,’” he smiles, glancing over at his cousin, his arm armed wrapped around his own wife. Benvolio exhales. “But bumping into someone who can spark your soul?” His lips tug upward. “That shit is rare.”

Even with the light chuckles and giggles in the background, his grin fades, however, as his heart clenches in his chest. “And then - I met you.”

Rosaline’s mouth drops open just slightly and Benvolio holds her hands even tighter.

“I didn’t want to love you,” he says. “And not - not _a_ Capulet. _You_. It’s always been you. Because you challenge me. You push and you push - but you pull me too. You pull me up. You push me forward. You anchor me. And that scared me. Because even if we grew up with families who hated each other, even if we have disagreements and different approaches to life, somehow we end up on the same side. We always end up on the same side." His throat feels heavy, his voice a little shaky. But she’s there, in front of him, so he continues. “Because you’re not only the love of my life, but my friend, my partner, who understands me in ways I can’t even begin to describe - but all I know is that I’m better when I’m with you.”

Rosaline cries during hers.

“I didn’t want love. Period. At all. That was for Livia, not me.” Her voice cracks, like the bones in his ribs, hiding his heart as it tries to rush towards hers. “But you - you picked me. You chose me. You loved me. And I - I don’t think I can ever tell you how much that means to me. Because you didn’t just love me, you loved my sister. You loved my friends and my family. You _became_ my family. We made our own. Together. Because we _both_ deserve to be loved, Ben. You deserve that. And I’m so happy I get to show you that, teach you that, _learn that too_. With you. Every day.”

If his vision gets blurry for the rest of the ceremony, only Rosaline knows that too.

So when the officiant declares them husband and wife, Benvolio kisses her with salt on his tongue and her tears on his lips and his chest ready to embrace them both.

  
  
  


(They have dinner there, at Taco Bell in Las Vegas, and if she gets guacamole on her dress and he eats too many burritos and their friends get too drunk and too loud - and they all ignore their ringing phones - it doesn't matter. Because Rosaline tastes like hot sauce and refried beans and tequila, her left ring finger dressed in gold, and Benvolio can't imagine a better start to his marriage.)

(Later, in their hotel room, when they are both wearing nothing except their wedding rings and the sheets, Rosaline tells him: "I think I'm pregnant."

And that's the better start.)

 


End file.
